


When Chemicals Boil Over

by astrivikia



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Andrew | Hubert being nice (Disney:Tangled), Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No beta we die like mne, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrivikia/pseuds/astrivikia
Summary: Trying to deal with everything he's been through gets to be a bit too much for Varian to keep inside.
Relationships: Andrew | Hubert & Varian (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	When Chemicals Boil Over

Varian stared into the vial of amber solution, a sick feeling twisting in his chest. He was tired. He was so tired of trying. His efforts weren't enough, and there were too many mistakes to undo.

Things could never go back to how they were. He shivered, pressing a hand against the cool, dark rock. He hated these things, he hated them so much, they’d ruined everything. He trembled, slumping so his forehead rested against them as well, shoulders tense. No,  _ he’d _ ruined everything.

He startled at the sound of a voice.

"Hey, kid." He spun, drawing the beaker close to his chest and staring wide eyed up at Andrew. "What're you doing in here?"

The taller man frowned down at him, hazel eyes analyzing the information in front of him. Varian squashed the blossoming anxiety in his chest. "N-nothing. I- it's n-nothing." His voice trembled, and his eyes felt hot.

"Kid, you talked to me a lot in that cell. You think I don't know what both these things are?" He gestured at the beaker, arching an eyebrow. "If you're thinking of doing something stupid, stop." Varian grimaced, blinking hard as he felt tears gather in his eyes, and dropped his gaze to the floor.

His hands were shaking, and he flinched when Andrew took the beaker from them.

"You think you dying is going to fix anything?"

"Don’t," he whispered, voice low. A sigh answered him, and he didn’t resist when Andrew grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the room and away from the rocks. He kept his gaze locked down on the ground, not paying attention to where exactly they were going until he felt Andrew guide him to sit down.

He curled inward, frowning as Andrew withdrew his grip. A soft clink reached his ears, presumably him setting down the beaker somewhere. That made sense.

What didn’t make sense was the sudden brush of something soft against him. He blinked in surprise, raising his head to look questioningly up at Andrew, who had settled his vest around his shoulders.

His head was tilted to the side, a concerned twist to his lips.

Varian raised a hand to pull the soft material closer to him, fingers curling in the fleece. He trembled slightly as he tried to tamp down the painful emotions warring inside him. 

It wasn't working. The tears he'd been struggling to fight back blurred his vision, a sob escaping him.

Andrew muttered something that Varian thought might be a curse, before crouching down to his level. "Var….  ihæla…"

He sniffled. Andrew smoothed a hand over his hair and what little composure Varian had been holding onto crumbled.

He turned into the touch, fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. He just wanted things to be okay again.  More sobs wracked his slight frame, and now that they'd started he couldn't seem to stop. The breaths tore uncomfortably from his throat, chest heaving. 

Arms wrapped around him, and he hid himself against Andrew's chest.  The Saporian murmured gently to him, cradling the back of his head with a hand.

The words didn't really register to Varian, but the consistent rumble of his voice grounded him.

Eventually the sobs tapered off, leaving him even more exhausted than he'd been before this.

He couldn't find the energy to disentangle himself from Andrew's embrace, and if he was honest he didn't want to. He didn't want to lose that comforting presence.

**Author's Note:**

> Ihæla means "buddy" in the Saporian I have cobbled together to use for my fic writing.


End file.
